The Leap of Pungo
by DaughterofHades16
Summary: Sam finds himself in the body of Grace Sherwood, right before her trial that will one day prove legendary.  i got the idea from a play that my mom does by the beach, which i do not own. Rated T, just in case.Please Review!
1. The Leap In

A/N: This is a story based kinda off of a play that my mom's in, so that's where I got the idea. Please review!

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Quantum Leap.**

Dr. Sam Beckett blinked out the brilliant blue light he always experienced during and after a leap. The first thing he noticed was the prison bars. They were old-fashioned, though. Like, really old-fashioned. He looked down at himself, realizing two things. One, he was dressed in clothes from what looked like the 1700s, and two…he had the body of a woman.

He leapt toward the dirty prison mirror and looked at himself. He defiantly had a woman's face. His host had dark hair and eyes, and had grime streaked on her face. "Oh, boy," he said.

* * *

_Meanwhile, in the waiting room…_

Dr. Verbeena Beeks entered the Waiting room. It was her job as the psychiatrist to win the trust over the new arrivals and at least get some basic information, such as their name, where they lived, what they did for a living, etc.

She walked into the waiting room to find Sam's new host in the corner, sobbing. Dr. Beeks set her clipboard down and knelt down to where the new Leapee was crying.

"What's wrong?" she asked. The Leapee looked up, her face stricken with fear and despair.

"Where am I? Am I dead? If I'm dead, then where is James?" she asked, then continued sobbing. Dr. Beeks set a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"You're not dead. You're in what we call the Waiting Room. Now, just calm down, and we might be able to figure this out." The Leapee calmed down a bit, reducing her sobs to a sniffle. "Very well, then."

Beeks sat her down on a more comfortable chair. "Okay, for starters," Dr. Beeks began, "What is your name?"

The Leapee took a deep breath and answered, "Grace Sherwood, from the Lynnhaven Parrish." The doctor wrote this down on her clipboard.

"Mm-hmm and where is that?" She answered, "Virginia," Dr Beeks wrote this down, also. "And what year is it currently?" she inquired. "1706,"

Verbeena looked up from her clipboard. "_1706_ did you say?" she asked, making sure she heard right.

"Yes," Grace answered, "Why?" the doctor shook her head.

"Never mind, let's continue." She hoped that the admiral was getting all this information.

* * *

_Back in jail, 1706, Samuel Beckett._

Sam breathed heavily. He sat on the bed, trying to keep 'his' hands from shaking. He'd probably been sitting there for fifteen minutes for someone to tell him what the hell was going on.

There was a whooshing noise as the door to the imaging chamber opened and closed. Sam looked in the direction of the sound, and standing there was Admiral Al, the observer (as well as Sam's old pal). He was wearing a bright green suit and an even brighter orange tie to go with it.

"Al!" Sam whispered.

"Hey, Sam. We've got quite the character in the waiting room" Al responded, sticking a half-used cigar in his mouth and lifting the handlink.

"Yeah, just tell me who I am, what I'm here to do, and why I'm in a jail, will ya?" Sam said, irritable from his Swiss-cheese memory. Al pressed multiple buttons, occasionally whacking the handlink with the heel of his hand.

"I'm getting as much as I can right now. Ziggy's recording Dr. Beeks's conversation with the Leapee as we speak. It was weird; when she walked in, your host was crying."

"Crying? Why?" Sam asked, curious.

Al shrugged, still fiddling with the handlink. "She was confused and afraid. She thought she was dead, and asked where James was."

Now Sam was confused. "Who's James?" he inquired.

Al shook his head. "We don't have the info yet. But here's what we got so far: "Your host's name is Grace Sherwood, year…" Al wacked the handlink. "…1706?"

Both Al and Sam raised their eyebrows. "How's that possible?" Sam demanded.

"Well, it's happened before, remember? Uh, never mind, you probably don't. Uh, you leaped into your However-many-greats grandfather, in the civil war times. Ziggy did a background check on Grace, and it turns out that Grace's half-sister moved to England a few years ago, and her distant relative moved back to America, and one of their distant relatives married a Beckett."

"Okay, what else?" Sam asked.

Al looked back at the handlink. "Okay, um…you're a working mother who lives at home with your three sons. Oh, and we figured out who James is. Grace was married to him, and they had their three boys, and…oh, no…he died. We don't know how; she won't talk about it. This left her alone to tend their farm and raise their sons. Oh, and get this: since their farm was near the river, she secretly is a very good swimmer. Um…she never really fit the mold; she was more outspoken, and a lot smarter than women were supposed to be. Because of her being different, she was often the victim of blame by her neighbors when things happened. In fact, recently, she was arrested and put in jail to await trial for…"

Al stared at the screen, thinking he'd read it wrong. He whacked the handlink again and again.

"For…?" Sam prompted. Al kept glancing from the handlink to Sam. "For…the crime of witchcraft."


	2. The Trial

Sam stared blankly at Al. "Witchcraft? How in the hell did she get accused of that?" he demanded.

"Uh, well," Al began, furiously punching the buttons on the handlink, "keep in mind that these are-um were-simple times. They didn't have ovens, so they had to bake their food over a fire. They also had to grind their own wheat."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, so?"

Al responded, "Well, the fumes from either are enough to drive the people insane, or make them see visions. Plus, these people are a little over-religious. Their whole culture is governed by religion, mostly Christianity. And when they see something or someone like Grace, they respond with fear and call it evil."

"And that's how I ended up in jail?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, that's how _Grace_ got arrested. After eight years of complaints and accusations from her neighbors, they finally hit the peak and had her arrested. She was awaiting trial in jail when you leaped in and she leaped out."

Sam nodded. "Okay, that's settled. Now, is there any idea of why I'm here?"

Al frowned at that statement, and began fiddling with the handlink again. "Ziggy says, there's a seventy-eight point nine four percent chance that you're here to keep her from getting convicted."

Sam leaned forward. "Why, what happened in the real history?"

Al pressed even more buttons. "Uh…she goes into trial, gets convicted of witchcraft, and dies in a trial by ducking."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Well, what do I do, then?"

"Hey! Stop talking! It's time for your trial." A deep voice yelled at Sam. He turned, facing a man, dressed in clothes suitable for the time period. He still looked like an authority figure. He opened the door in the bars and grabbed 'Sam' by the hair.

He was dragged into the courtroom filled with angry prosecutors and excited onlookers. He was forcibly seated in a chair. The room was filled with the deafening overlapped speech.

A judge hammered his podium with a gavel. "Order in this court! We're here to hear the matter of one Grace Sherwood." The crowd dulled down and sat down. "Call your first witness!" the judge ordered.

Sam had been a lawyer, and this court was unlike any he'd seen before. They went straight to the accusations. A woman came up to the stand and took her oath. She looked frantic and anxious.

"All right," she began. "I-I was in my room at night, trying to fall asleep, when I saw Grace, who had transformed herself into a puff of smoke, enter through the keyhole in my door!"

Al appeared near Sam, listening. "I don't think this dame's playing with a full deck, here." Sam ignored his remark and the woman continued.

"And then, she assumed the form of a black cat and attacked me, leaving scratches, bites, and fleas!" The courtroom erupted with nasty remarks toward Sam-uh, Grace. The judge again called for order, and for the second witness.

This one was a man, who was dressed in rugged clothes. He looked like he worked outside a lot. He took his oath and began his accusation.

"My story is as curious as that we just were told." He started. "It was late one night, and I saw all that I am about to say in the light of the moon. Grace Sherwood was outside, dancing in the moonlight, which I recognized as a sin, but not a crime yet. But shortly after that night, all of my crops failed, while all of Grace's crops survived! I realized that Grace's dancing conjured evil spells, and she bewitched my cows, causing them to produce sour milk!"

The courtroom was once again filled with angry voices.

At the same time, Al said, "Hey that could've been any number of things!"

The judge slammed his gavel on the podium yet again. "Order! I will clear this courtroom! Call a final witness."

A young woman took her oath and sat down. She looked like she was in her 20s. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying. _Oh, boy,_ Sam thought. She started her tragic story.

"For many years, we prayed that God would give us a son. We wanted so an heir, but we had none to this point. Imagine my delight when I was given the news that after all those years of praying, I'd conceived!"

A faint smile formed on Sam's face, despite the circumstances.

But the woman continued, "Yet, shortly prior to the birth, my child was in duress. In our distress, we called upon Grace Sherwood to come help. We'd heard that she might prevent this dread using healing herbs she had, but after she departed, I delivered my son…dead." A tear streaked down her cheek.

Sam buried his face in his hands. This time, the audience remained silent. When he looked up, the woman had the expression of pure rage. She stood up and pointed an accusing finger at him. "Grace Sherwood killed my baby!"

Sam shook his head.

At that remark, the crown erupted with exclamations. Among these, Sam heard these the most often:

"She's a witch!"

"Kill her!"

"Kill the witch!"

The judge silenced the crowd. He turned to Sam. "Grace Sherwood! Having hears these multiple and compelling accusations against you, further, having directed a search of your home and physical body, which has produced three marks of the devil, it is the decision of this court that you shall be remanded to the county for trial by ducking."

Sam bowed his head in despair, thinking he'd failed.

The judge continued, "You will be tied cross-bound with a bible around your neck and thrown into the waters of the Lynnhaven River. If the pure waters of the Lynnhaven receive you and you drown, your then lifeless body will be pulled from the river and your name exonerated. You will be buried on holy ground and receive a full pardon both here and in the hereafter. Should you float, this court will find you guilty of the crime of witchcraft and upon your extraction from the water you will be placed in the county jail for the rest of your immortal life. In either case, may God have mercy on your soul.

"Have you anything to say for yourself?" the judge asked Sam.

"Say something, Sam." Al urged.

Sam lifted his head. "Indeed." He said, standing and facing the crowd, causing the people in the front row to step back.

"For many years and through the duration of this trial I have maintained that I be not a witch! But…if this esteemed court has determined otherwise, then so be it. But know this—before this is over, you will all receive a far worse ducking than I!"

"Nice line." Al admired.

Meanwhile, the crowd reacted in outrage. The judge raised his hands, silencing them. "Very well. This court is adjourned. Take Grace back to her cell to await trial!" he ordered.

Another burly guard brought Sam back to 'his' cell. He still couldn't believe that these people could accuse Grace, much less convict her of witchcraft.

Al appeared in front of Sam, taking the cigar out of his mouth. "Well, that didn't go quite as planned." He said, simply.

"Really, Al? I thought that it went perfectly smooth," Sam whispered, sarcastically.

"Yeah, but on the bright side, that might not be the reason that you were here," Al responded, punching buttons on the handlink. "Ziggy says there's a ninety-nine point seven eight percent chance that you're here to keep her from drowning."

"Why? Wouldn't that prove her right?" Sam asked.

Al stared intently at the small screen on the handlink, still furiously pushing buttons and occasionally hitting it.

"Well, Ziggy fount a newspaper from the area, and it says that she drowned in the ducking, leaving her sons alone. Ziggy also found that her sons ended up on the street, and the youngest got run over by a car. This led the other two to commit suic-"

Al whacked the handlink. "Oh, suicide shortly after."

"So, I'm here to keep her from leaving her sons alone?"

"Yes."

Sam hoped to God, Fate, or whoever, that he'd gained Grace's ability to swim.


	3. Duck the Witch!

Sam waited until guards came to take him to the Lynnhaven, all the while trying to decide what to do. Sam had been in life-or-death situations before, but never like this. This time, it was a no-win situation. If he let himself die, he'd be ruining Grace's boys' lives. If he swam for it, he'd be proving the courts right, in their mind, and be thrown in jail.

He was contemplating all this as priests used rope to tie his right thumb to his left big toe and his left thumb to his right big toe. They then tied a bible around his neck. Ropes were tied around his waist for the purpose of retrieving 'her' body from the water.

Sam was forced onto a small lifeboat that two priests paddled the boat two-hundred yards into the Lynnhaven River. Sam looked out into the coastline. It was lined with hundreds of people, and the atmosphere was electric with excitement. Along the front of the crowd, Sam saw three young boys, the oldest about 11. They were the only ones that weren't chanting "Duck the witch!" over and over.

The boat came to a stop. One of the priests grabbed Sam by the shoulders (painfully), started chanting with the crowd, and threw Sam into the water.

Sam was engulfed in water. He opened his eyes to find that he could see. Al appeared in front of him. "Come on, Sam!" he screamed, "You can do it! Wrench on outa there! Come on!" Sam struggled with his bonds, thrashing around. He closed his eyes and tugged on his bonds as hard as he could. The next thing he knew, he was breathing air. He must've wriggled his way to the surface. Outraged, the priests pulled him onto the boat and tied a second bible around his neck to make sure he'd drown. He was once again flung into the water. His previous efforts had loosened his bonds, and he was able to get out of them. "That's it, Sam! Now swim! Swim, damn it, SWIM!" Al called.

Sam found that swimming came easy for him. He fished his way back to the surface, breathing air again.

One of the priests yelled, "She floats!" The other screamed, "She _IS_ a witch!" Sam was dragged back onto the boat, coughing.

"You did it, Sam! You changed history." Al exclaimed. Sam didn't answer him until he was put back in jail. A guard threw an old, moth-eaten blanket at him, and he wrapped it around him.

"Do things get better, Al?" he asked.

A young voice behind him said, "I hope so." Sam turned, and outside the prison cell were three boys.

"Boys!" Sam cried, embracing them as well as he could through the bars.

"It's not fair!" the youngest said. "You're not an evil witch!"

Sam said, sadly,"I know. But do not worry. Things are going to be okay. I'll be out of here just as soon as these people come back to their senses."  
He turned to the oldest boy. "Take good care of your brothers, you hear? Make sure they're safe."

The young boy teared up. "I will, mother."

Sam smiled. "Now, try to make it back to the farm. Take care of it. And don't let the neighbors get to you" They nodded and left.

Sam slowly turned back to Al. "Will they be okay?" he asked.

"Well, yeah." Al answered, pushing a few buttons on the handlink. "Ziggy says that after seven years and nine months in jail, she was quietly released. Her land and worldly possessions had, however, been confiscated by the government. She sues them and wins back her land in court. The government makes her pay back-taxes for the time she was in court. After that, she spends the rest of her life with her sons and dies a peaceful death at the age of 80."

Sam still had the thought of her being convicted in his head. "…Does she ever get pardoned?"

Al furrowed his eyebrows, and began pushing many buttons. "Not in her lifetime. Or yours. But Ziggy says that there's a hundred percent chance that she will get a full pardon by 2006 or 2007."

"And her boys?" Sam asked expectantly. "

Al looked at the handlink's screen. "Ziggy says that the oldest son, after Grace's death, pays off the rest of the house. He and his brothers raise the farm, get married and have kids, and live very happy lives. And, Grace becomes famous for her attempts, and Ziggy predicts that there are gonna be books written about her, plays, memorials, the whole kit and caboodle."

Sam smiled. At least there was a light at the very end of a very dark tunnel.

Al waved at Sam, as if to say goodbye. Sam realized what that meant as he leaped.


End file.
